The Seven Sins, for her sins!
by Kinnu
Summary: She was no longer looking at a shadow of a little girl who stubbed her toe in the dark. Not once. Not twice. But seven times. Seven utterly-devastating times. She is now too old and hardened to cry and it hurts too much to laugh. But is it too late to make her smile? OC (Alessia Zabini)
1. Prologue

Prologue

"Oblivion. Where else I will find peace?"

"Then, leave," she was told, though not politely, "for you have no place here and most certainly, no peace. You never had and never will. Your name shall not be spoken or whispered. Not in the bright rooms or even in the darkest corners. Anyone who attempts to do so shall be ostracized from the Order, irreversibly and irrevocably. Carelessness in placing trust in a young colt that begins its training by being docile is a source of such betrayal which need never have occurred. Let the Order be warned, and warned well. No stone will be left unturned until we see the blood of our nemesis flood the ground beneath his panicked body."

As the last word was said, she walked out of the ostentatiously decorated drawing room, into the weeded garden and out of the gate for the last time. She held her head high as the Order of Phoenix members looked on, steel in their gazes, and stepped outside The Place to breathe in the air of hopeless freedom, or rather, the lack of it. She would never see the gate again in her life and she knew it. She knew it with as much conviction as she knew that she was going to die.

She whipped her head around, wand in hand, as she heard a familiar series of fast clicks. The empty drive, earlier bright with the street lights, was now dark. Albus Dumbledore came to stand by her side, pushing away from a streetlight he'd been leaning against, waiting for her.

She tucked her wand securely into the waistband of her cloak and picked one of the lemon drops Dumbledore offered her and shifted her feet impatiently while the both of them sucked on the Muggle sweet. As they stood, side by side, contemplating her future, a shadow emerged from the dark alley alongside The Place.

"Will you?" the whisper reached their ears, filled with pity and barely audible as Dumbledore acknowledged the shadow wreathed in darkness with a faint nod.

"Yes," her voice cracked, although she felt absolutely certain, as she glanced into the all-knowing, piercing blue gaze of Albus Dumbledore. "I have no place here."

Alessia Zabini, as she would be called now, followed, as the shadow nodded and slunk away into the darkness.

She didn't look back.

She was no longer looking at a shadow of a little girl who stubbed her toe in the dark.

Not once.

Not twice.

But seven times.

Seven utterly-devastating times.

She is now too old and hardened to cry and it hurts too much to laugh. But is it too late to make her smile?


	2. Acedia

Acedia

(Sloth vs Diligence)

"_He died. The first one died. " _

A man rushed down the alley, unable to disapparate because of the Anti-Apparition Charm they had put up. She watched from the tiny gap, sharing space uncomfortably with the shadow who had initiated her into the job she was currently doing, watching the ongoing fight, or rather, the lack of it. As the Death Eaters converged on the bulky man, laughing maniacally, Alessia wondered why the man didn't raise his wand, let alone defend himself.

"This is a new case. We might have to help sooner." muttered the shadow in her mind. He was an accomplished legilimens and even though she didn't trust him, he was all Dumbledore could do to help her. And if the greatest wizard of all time had trust in the man, couldn't she? But Albus trusted too many and she trusted none. Having faith in another only led to downfall and she had realized that, early in life. Judging this not to be the time to debate her inner conflicts, she pushed it to a corner of her mind and prepared to face the current situation.

Hauling in a huge breath, she lifted the Disillusionment Charm off of herself, placed the dark hood on her head and stepped out, absently listening to the warnings whispered in her ear.

"Well, well… What do we have here? So many men to capture a man unable to lift a wand? You may all leave or perhaps, you'd like to stay?"

The men turned their heads around and Alessia hoped the man had enough sense to run away, past the wards, as she held their attention. But he did no such thing.

The Death Eaters inclined their heads respectfully, though the man didn't seem to notice it and slunk away. Alessia knew they were still there, watching and assessing, waiting to give their report back to the Dark Lord.

"Alleys here are no place for you, or anyone else, but I fancy you've realized that." Her gaze roamed to his face as she walked towards him, then she reached into her cloak pocket and drew out a silver card case. She extracted a card and offered it between two fingers. "So you know where to send further information about your choice. Send a message with your patronus. Am I too forward in assuming you have one?" Her gaze touched his face again, then she inclined her head.

"Good-bye, Belphegor," Alessia cast a considering glance at him as her lips twitched at her own wording and continued, "Or should I say Jasper?"

Jasper Belphegor, a well-known pure-blood, never wished to join the war, but was being pressured to do so. He reiterated his thanks for her help and narrowed his eyes at her. "But how do you know me, and why would you imagine I wish to inform you of anything, madam?"

As she turned away with a self-depreciating smile, without answering, he glanced at her card. "Good God!"

The exclamation escaped him despite his years of Pureblood training. Without thinking, eyes fixed on the card, he caught the elbow of the woman who had been his saviour in the night. Or perhaps not. Obediently, she halted and her hood slipped off slightly before she could help it.

He couldn't drag his eyes from the card; a simple, expensive rectangle of white with the Dark Mark upon it. Beneath the crest was stamped one word: Alessia. Beneath that was an address, one he knew had to belong to one of the huge old mansions. But it was her name that turned his world upside down.

Hauling his gaze from it, he looked down at her. It took a moment to get his bearings as his heat beat louder.

"Bianca, you're Alessia? But…how?"

The rumoured spymaster, elusively mysterious Alessia. He certainly knew Bianca, for she was his wife, knew of Alessia and of her reputation, but tonight was the first time he'd set eyes on her as Alessia. He realized he was clutching her elbow and released her.

That self-deprecatory amusement was back in her eyes. Still slightly stunned, he continued to stare and she raised one brow, cynical and world-weary. "Who else?"

"I thought you were woman enough, strong enough to fight against it all. Get past it, Bianca. It is making you apathetic; there is a clouded glass between you and all your emotions, feelings, and passions. This isn't who you are. Let me in. Your eyes now are those of ones with a dulled soul, flat and endlessly deep. But is zero simply nothing or an infinite depth of nothing? You are hurt, lost, and angry, but I'll give you the will to live on, no matter how wretched or small. If it is despair, it won't be one that tortures, for I'll give you a hope and a purpose. Believe in me, Bianca!"

"I'm not deliberately avoiding it, Jasper, for resisting any force takes energy. I'm not having the darling nap of a cat in the sun. It is not the exhaustion that follows a hard day of work. I feel my body collapse as I let the air out of my lungs. It's the sickly warmth that closes my eyes and snuffs out my thoughts." She then shook her head in resignation and continued, "Don't romanticize it, Jasper. It pulls me down harder the lower I go; the absolute bottom, yet only the beginning of descent. And I go willingly."

His gaze held hers, then moved unhurriedly over her face before returning to her eyes.

"I'll make certain you're informed of any further attacks, madam. I trust you will be able to help?" He mockingly stated and abruptly inclined his head, bowed elegantly and prepared to leave.

The shadow emerged as Belphegor took a step forward and the voice said, "I'm afraid you can't leave now," as a green beam of light left Jasper Belphegor falling to the ground, eyes wide, still accusingly aimed at his wife. Now his widow.

Alessia swallowed and closed her eyes, unwilling to believe the death of her husband. Not hers, but Bianca Belphegor's husband. And she told herself she would do well to remember that.

As of that day, Jasper and Bianca Belphegor ceased to exist.

And as she felt the coldness of the other Death Eaters move away, satisfied with all they had seen, she knew she still couldn't let her grief show. All expression leeched out of her and so did all emotion. She retreated into herself as she did many times before, on the deaths of her parents, siblings and numerous friends. Left it behind and tucked it down as she did all others into a remote corner of her mind, wishing to forget.

Casting a last glance at Jasper Belphegor's lifeless body, Alessia lifted the Anti-Apparition wards and disapparated quickly, taking care to apparate to the end of the alley, so she could still see the two men, one dead and one barely alive.

The shadow moved towards the dead body and raised a dark eyebrow at the form of Belphegor as he smiled, although it was cold and lacked joy.

"You have shown that diligence, which can possess and be possessed by anything, can't be underestimated. You have fought against the nature of the world and until the bitter end, for the two of you. But you must have learned by now that you must never belittle Sloth, for it is depression, it is apathy; it is melancholy of the soul. It can't be conquered. Can't be."

The shadow turned away and disapparated, pleased with what they, or what he, had achieved. He didn't notice Alessia return to the scene and levitated the body of Jasper Belphegor out of the alley, to give him a proper burial.

The quiet, defiant attitude at everything that slowed her down had died with him; the spirit that let her spit on gravity, on drudgery, on life's cruelty had faded away. She knew her family was dead and that the world had collapsed, and facing and defeating the demons had lost its glamour.

Sloth had reigned supreme and diligence had lost the battle.

But the war was yet to be fought.


	3. Invidia

Invidia

(Envy vs Kindness)

"_I killed him. I killed the second one." _

Narcissa Malfoy was sitting with her embroidery on a chaise by the window at the far end of the room from the library door. Alessia sitting by a desk a little away from the window, poring over ledgers and occasionally scribbling over a few entries. She had a quill tucked into her hair and occasionally glanced at dark corners, as though waiting for the shadow's arrival.

After more than a half-hour of companionable silence, Narcissa Malfoy looked up from her intricate embroidery wand movements and asked Alessia, hesitance colouring her voice, "May I ask you a question, Alessia? It is merely one I have always wished to ask. But I would like you to answer with honesty, if you will."

Alessia looked wary at the prospect of a question, but reluctantly acquiesced. "If you wish to. But I fear my answer's truthfulness will entirely depend on your question."

"Do you regret it?"

Alessia put her quill aside and leaned back in her chair before answering. "Just think, if I killed you on a field of battle, we'd move on, maybe piling some dirt on your corpse. But if I did it here, they'd put me away before you could say Merlin. If I had to choose between the life of one of my friends and the life of a total stranger, who is going to let a friend die? It just doesn't work. Life isn't equal, it's unfair, that's just the way it is."

Sniffing in indignance, Alessia continued "So when, like some self righteous woman, you ask me, 'how does it feel to stain your hands with blood?' I will just tell you that."

Narcissa couldn't resist here, "Well, what does it feel like?"

Alessia sighed at her friend's poke-my-nose-in-everything philosophy. "It's the worst feeling in the world, and it never gets any better. But I don't regret it. Can you understand that, Cissa? If it had to be done, and it had to be me who does it, then I'll pay the price. Only people who's never been in war, never killed, can sit back and glorify life like you do. I envy you for being able to do that."

Narcissa tried to intervene and refute the last statement. "It was not my intent-"

But she was cut off mid-sentence by Alessia, who was on a roll and noticed only one of the two people who slunk into the library. One was her shadow, who she did not notice, as always, and she thought she knew the other, the one who should not have been here. She quickly cast a Sectumsempra Mitigare in the direction of the man she saw coming in and flinched as she recognised the voice that cried out at the pain as the Curse hit him.

She ran across the library to the shelves as Narcissa followed close behind, her heels clicking on the marble flooring. Her breath whooshed out of her chest as she saw the man at her feet. Dying.

After a few seconds of silence, Alessia clenched her teeth tight and hardened herself as she cast a Silencing Charm around the whimpering man. "Cissa, you don't know about killing and watching as the life goes out of a person so that you can survive. Nobody talks about it and no one will talk about it, because they're all too selfish for themselves. You know what reality is? Reality is that we are all born on top of a pile of corpses, a mountain of men. Doesn't matter if you don't like it, a person is born with the sacrifices of many and the responsibility that comes with those sacrifices."

Looking back at Narcissa, Alessia lifted the Silencing Charm and numbed the man's pain. He was going to die anyway and she could see it in his eyes as he looked up at her. At that point, she felt the shadow behind her, the cold tendrils of his legimency reaching her, telling her not to acknowledge the man in Narcissa's presence.

It was then that the man was able to clearly look past his pain at Alessia.

"Celine? How could you do this to me?"

"You know him?"

Alessia steeled herself as always, all expression leeching out of her face as she answered Narcissa with a depreciating smile, one that lacked happiness of any kind. "I look like the man's wife ,Celine. She was a Pureblood wife, before you ask me. Allow me to introduce you to Odysseus Leviathan, a Greek Wizard and allow him his delusions till he dies. Let us indulge him in his final moments. Anyway, he is well known for path breaking discoveries in modified Curses. The one he was hit with is a speciality of his. Kills the person with maximum pain unless hit with the Numbing Charm. How ironic!"

Narcissa went back to the chaise she was sitting on earlier, unable to see the man's suffering and looked at Alessia from across the room. "I have found love with Lucius for the second time after the First War. Don't you think you should try finding love for yourself too? In the Pureblood Balls?"

Abruptly, Alessia stood straight up, swinging about to face Narcissa. "I always listened to my so-called suitors'. Most instructive. So, you see, Cissa, while I may envy you your experience, I know how rare it is. I don't expect love as you know it to find me. It's had enough years to do so and failed. I'll soon be well and truly out of my body and out of mind."

Odysseus rasped out, "Celine! You are married. This is no way to speak."

"Well, not for long. I shall be a widow in a few minutes, don't you think? I envy you too, Odysseus. I aim to do the right thing, gain a positive end, even if it's only some sort of pleasure, but my arrow veers off and instead of the bull's eye, I hit someone in the field beyond. You hit it right and straight, and then sacrifice too. It's too bad I did all my sacrificing already."

"Your mistakes are usually misdirected attempts at the good rather than intentional pursuit of the bad." Odysseus wheezed out, despite the shudders that ran through his body every few seconds. "My friends die so I can live in a better place. You can't ever pay it back, no matter how hard you try. Don't give me that look, Celine, I'm not lecturing you. A good friend or husband, never asks for anything back, only that you also sacrifice for someone else, if not your own husband."

Narcissa looked close to stomping her feet in frustration at the wordplay between her friend and a dying man, and tried to bring the conversation back on track. "You haven't even looked over the mart, dear Alessia, in all your years of so-called-searching. As for out of mind, that is well and truly impossible."

Alessia saw the sympathy in Narcissa's grey eyes and, smiling ruefully, shook her head. "There's no point feeling sorry for me, for I don't feel the least sorry for myself. Anyway, a husband would expect his wife to behave in accord with certain strictures, to be at home when he was, not riding the sands. He'd expect me to follow his dictates, have my world revolve about him, when I'd be wanting to do something quite different. Tell me, Cissa, what man do you know would allow me the freedom I presently enjoy—to go about as I please, to be myself?"

"Many will and you won't do anything scandalous hereafter, Celine. Or should I say Alessia?" Came a voice from near her feet, the words freezing her in place, as the voice continued, "To follow you, I was not content. Until I knew which way you went. I knew, Celine. And you shall always be Celine to me."

Hiding her deadly surprise, Alessia brought up anger from her insides. "For Salazar's sake, scandalous? I see no point in inviting the attentions of the gabblemongers, and I would never bring scandal to anyone else's good name. I would have thought two families attached to scandal by my actions would have been dishonourable enough to halt you from prodding me. But it doesn't seem to deter you from your present but to-be unsuccessful pursuit."

Narcissa Malfoy frowned. "I can understand your disillusionment, but we vowed we'd marry for love by choice, remember?"

Alessia smiled. "We'd marry by choice for love—or not at all. I have already been married twice, neither by choice, nor by love, though the latter came eventually. Forgive me, but I do not wish to repeat it, however enlightening it might have been."

Narcissa Malfoy flushed, but, before she could speak, Alessia went on, her tone one of acceptance. "You're married for love; I'm not marrying by choice again."

"Alessia!"

"Celine!"

Alessia laughed. "Don't fuss so. I'll enjoy myself hugely. I promise you—I don't need love."

Narcissa left shortly after that, not wanting to witness a death, muttering about stubborn females.

Odysseus Leviathan held his tongue but, to his mind, love was the very thing Alessia did need to make her whole. He could feel his life flowing out of him so he hurried to tell Celine all he wanted. "Envy is an empty and desolating experience from beginning to end. Very few people ever own up to it. I am proud of you for acknowledging its presence, Celine. And for all you didn't tell me, and for this," he indicated himself with his eyes, "I-"

Odysseus felt his breath catch and he panicked as he hadn't said his actual piece yet. Drawing up on his final reserves, he rasped out, "forgive you." Just as his eyes rolled back and his lifeless body fell with a thud.

The shadow, her protector, hadn't made his presence again, came out of his hiding place and nodded his condolences. He wasn't very happy with the outcome of the situation, considering that Odysseus had the last word and this time, he did not have anything to say.

"Well, it wasn't a pleasant conversation, but I guess I can live with it. After all, he did finally forgive Celine, didn't he?"

Saying so, the shadow slunk out, the same way he had slunk in. As soon as Alessia felt his presence move out, she fell to her knees and cradled her dead husband's head in her lap.

It is nevertheless true that another's good also increases us for all pure hatred for another had left her as soon as life had left Odysseus' body. It was as if he had taken all of it with him, leaving her with all the kindness she had loved him for.

Envy was very culpable in its effects when it was absent. It used to disturb her peace of soul. In order to surpass others, she had engaged in overtaxing work of a more or less questionable nature involving sins against loyalty and justice. Envy had been a thief, planting seeds of poisonous foliage round about the interior castle of the heart, lighting little fires of irritation and anger here and there.

But no longer.

Envy had lost the battle and kindness had reigned supreme.

But the war was yet to be fought.


	4. Gula

Gula

(Gluttony vs Temperance)

"_He got poisoned. Thank God the third got poisoned."_

"You figured out that this house is clear to go into in the short time you were gone?" Nicholas Asmodeus asked, surprised.

Alessia shrugged, as though it was of no great consequence and gave him a heated glance as she said, "What can I say? I'm good."

He smiled smugly, at the bout of her justified confidence, as she called it. "And so modest..."

"Modesty is for wimps." Alessia declared before sweeping into the library and settling down behind her desk. Noticing him come in, she waved him towards the armchairs arranged uniformly around the huge library, without looking up from the records she was perusing. "Go ahead and find something to read. I'll be a while."

Smiling indulgently at her, Nicholas picked up a book randomly and sat down in the chair giving him the best view of her, to enjoy the sight of her working. His wife was beautiful, he realized, with wisps of hair escaping from her top knot as she brushed them back and tried to tuck them behind her ear. His fingers itched to slide them through her jet black hair. He could imagine the feel of the strands on his hands; silky and as soft as her unblemished skin.

Their gazes met as she lifted her head to look around the cavernous room, as though expecting to find him in a corner where he would not be seen. Her dark eyes, now a deep black met his green ones, dazed from being so engrossed in the records. They held that contact, for they felt the connection, and the deep pull.

Clearing her throat to distract herself from the direction her thoughts had taken, she noticed the book he was reading before looking at the clock to realize more than an hour had passed.

Now amused, she looked at him coyly from beneath her eyelashes and inquired, "Nicholas, can you read better upside down? I must admit I've never had the pleasure of reading a book of sonnets so."

Light colour coloured his cheekbones as he noticed the book he'd been holding and gritted his teeth before answering. "I was merely trying to pass the time by finding...um...new ways to read a book. Of sonnets. To see if they sound better that way. Madam wife, do you disagree that inquisitiveness is the key to success?"

"It is, of course, as you say." Alessia murmured as she rose and moved around the desk to lean against it, facing him.

Nicholas put the book aside on the tabletop alongside the armchair and walked unhurriedly towards her until his coat was almost touching her dress.

"Alessia" he said as he placed his hands on the desk on either side, effectively trapping her.

Alessia, suppressing the tide of anger that rose up as he did so, slid her arms over his shoulders and settled them on his chest. When his lips were about to reach hers, she breathed, "Nicholas", before they covered hers and took the breath out of her.

His lips firmed and hers softened as he slowly held her by her waist and pulled her flush against him.

A pop-sound had them pulling away from each other as a house-elf apparated into the room, carrying letters on a salver.

"Excuse me, mistress. Would you like me to serve anything?"

"Tea would do admirably well, Cobby."

"Of course. Here, mistress?"

"Serve it in the parlour and bring the letters there, Cobby. We'll be there in a while. " As an afterthought, not wanting anything else that would unleash her anger to occur, Alessia added, "And leave the door open."

"Very well, mistress" Cobby bowed low before disapparating, the door left wide open.

"The house-elf didn't even raise an eyebrow. And mistress? We were finally getting somewhere." Nicholas managed to control his baser impulse to shake the truth out of her.

Alessia ignored the last statements, cursing herself for not ordering Cobby to not address her as such and deigned to answer only his first question, a trifle wary of further questioning. "There are quite a few disreputable people coming in and going out through the house all the time. He was given to me by my mother-in-. I mean, my mother, when she was in Paris. I'm quite sure it offends Cobby's sensibilities, the way he was trained, not having many to serve. Having one of the family here is a treat for Cobby, a rare pleasure of serving in surrounds he initially expected to serve in. Let us not deny him that."

Nicholas waited as Alessia placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. He knew he was being insistent but he was getting very curious. As they walked out of the door, they noticed Cobby hovering in the hallway outside the library, indicating that he had heard their earlier discussion.

"Mistress, serving you has been a pleasure. I assure you I would never have found a better employer." He had tears glistening in his eyes—tears he didn't attempt to conceal as Alessia nodded her approval of him. Cobby then gestured them towards the parlour. "I've had the tea tray set up, mistress. Would you like me to pour?"

"Thank you, Cobby. I believe I'll do it. You may attend to your other duties." Alessia told him as she glided smoothly inside.

Cobby bowed himself out after a well-concealed surprised look that Nicholas caught by. When Nicholas mentioned this before shutting the door and moving to sit beside Alessia on the chaise, she shrugged as she poured the tea into the teacups and said, "Don't bother asking him about me. He's as close-mouthed and loyal as they come."

Thoroughly put out at this hitch in his plans, Nicholas accepted the teacup from Alessia, so engrossed in his thoughts of her beauty that he did not notice the changed colour of the tea and sipped slowly, desperately searching for ways to extend their stay and continue their earlier distraction. Unable to find a reasonable reason, Nicholas held the door open as Alessia walked out of the parlour and towards the back door.

Cobby handed Nicholas his coat and hat and opened the door wide.

"Are you ever going to open the front door and let me in? We are married after all, Daphne, albeit secretly." Nicholas flippantly asked over his shoulder with a grin as he let himself out through the small gate.

"Daphne!"

No sooner had he walked out did he suddenly have a fit. Shudders wracked his body and he soon found himself falling to the ground, losing consciousness and eventually, his life.

A small smile slipped through and soon, Alessia found herself smiling, though not with humour. Nicholas was long gone to the world of the dead when she found herself, still near the back door, walking towards the gate to see his corpse, Cobby following her. She finally answered his last question as her good humour drained away.

"Never, Nicholas. Never. You were gluttonous, Nicholas. Increasingly so and too much for my taste. Gluttony is not just excessive desire for food. It is also selfishness; placing concern with one's own interests above the well-being or interests of others, as you have always done. It is never being quite content with what you have, always wanting more, filling not only your stomach but our entire lives with excess and still wanting more. What you actually needed had been replaced by want you think you need, what you think I should give you."

Saying so, she levitated his body, lowered it into the ground and covered it with soil.

"But mistress, constant mindfulness of others and one's surroundings; practicing self-control and moderation was always your forte. And that shall still save you another day, Cobby promises you, mistress."

Cobby then offered her a sad smile as he walked into the house, leaving her to her thoughts.

Gluttony had lost the battle and temperance had reigned supreme.

But the war was yet to be fought.


	5. Superbia

Superbia

(Pride vs Humility)

"_He got stabbed by a rod. The fourth one was stabbed by a rod."_

Lucifer Seymour needn't have worried; Alessia appeared like an avenging angel, all black frown and narrowed black eyes, tight lips and burning gaze, in the darkness of the shadows on the terrace. In evening dress, she stepped directly in front of him, cutting his route off as he came out to get some fresh air, away from the suffocation of the ballroom.

"You look exquisite, Madame Alessia. But what the devil are you doing back here?"

"Oh!" she jumped back in a fighting stance as he almost collided with her; her hand had instinctively risen to the position; beneath the facade, her heart thumped. She hadn't been surprised so for at least three years now, if not more.

Then entirely unexpectedly, relief flooded Lucifer. "Good; you're here." Her eyes narrowed even more.

Alessia stepped closer, hoping no one noticed so she might say her piece and leave. "We can't be together anymore; the sun's rising so early there are others out by six. And I have to attend to multiple situations every night, so earlier than six is impossible. And I assume it is the same for you, attending many events."

Searching her face, Lucifer detected no softening in her stony expression. "I need to speak with you, Alessia."

A wary frown appeared, dispelling the rage. "You are speaking with me, Lucifer."

"Yes." he glanced about. "But I can't discuss the matter I wish to speak of here." In public was his clear message. "Follow me."

After a pregnant pause, she thought she heard him sigh when she made no move to obey him.

Lifting his head, he looked around. "I assume you apparated here?"

"The apparition point is by the small gate. I came here to inform you that we must not meet again."

Alessia looked into his handsome face, into green eyes that held none of the disappointment at her that she'd expected to see. Every instinct she possessed was screaming that whatever it was he wished to say to her, she would be better off not hearing. Yet, if she didn't, she'd always wonder; just the sight of him had been enough to make her forget all the rational arguments for staying away from him.

"Very well." Lips compressing, she took his arm. "This way." she steered him past the terrace to a pair of small gates flaking with rust. Reaching between the gates, she set one swinging wide with a squeak. Without hesitation, Alessia slipped through and out; he followed, closing the gate, leaving them isolated in the narrow alley adjoining the house. Totally private, yet not private enough.

"What did you wish to discuss?" she glanced at him; she could almost see him girding his loins as she faced him.

"You told me of your past and present. You made it clear, or rather its consequences, stand between us. I've quietly investigated how people view what happened, how they view you now." his eyes searched her. "There are many who do not and never have accepted your guilt as a given. Most do not even know your transgression."

She let her brows rise fractionally; she'd never really considered what the world at large, thought. The world had never, of itself, been important to her. "How..." How what? Heartening? Hardly that. Interesting?

The last thing she wished was to encourage him. So she shrugged. "It matters little."

His head rose. "On the contrary, it matters a great deal." His tone, the determined light in his eyes, the arrogant tilt of his chin, alerted her to his direction. If she were resurrected in the world's eyes...

The vision he was seeing, the impossible dream he was determined to pursue, broke across her mind. Acceptance, her true position. All that and so much more, all she'd blocked from her mind for the past ten years.

Wrenching her mind away, cutting off the thoughts, drowning the vision, took an effort that left her gut knotted, her lungs tight. "No."

He frowned, opened his lips.

"It won't work." she had to stop him from raising the topic, stop the idea from gaining further flesh. "It's not that I haven't considered clearing my name." All too frequently during the past few years. "But it happened ten years ago, and even at the time there was not a whisper of proof to support my tale; no one able to bear me witness and many to swear to my guilt."

His frown deepened. After a moment, he said, "You do see, don't you, what could be. All that you could have? We could have?"

She held his gaze, succinctly replied, "Yes." She saw all too well. Knew how much she longed to be possessed. Knew that in this case, trying and failing would be infinitely worse than not trying at all.

If she– they, attempted to clear her name and failed?

That was one scenario she didn't ever want to face. To raise the doubt of having a life she'd accepted as denied to her long ago, only to see that hope dashed irretrievably. To know Lucifer would be tainted by the association; impossible for his interest to go unremarked.

And, despite all, one point had never, over all the years, escaped her. She knew she hadn't done it and knew exactly who had.

Yet uncovering and publishing that answer might well be what it took to clear her name. And she couldn't do that. Not for her sake, but many others.

Dragging in a breath, she forced her gaze from his, looked out over the busy road at the end of the alley and tried to erect some barrier between herself and the man she was with; usually an easy task. But she'd never managed it with Lucifer. And the alley was so damned small.

"There's no point pursuing it. There's nothing I, or even we, can do." she added, her tone cutting, "I didn't tell you the tale to gain your support. I told you so you'd understand why I have no future in the world." she paused, then added, "The past is dead and buried."

Silence, then he winced and leaned down to speak softly, close to her ear, his voice causing goose bumps to rise on her arms, "Buried, perhaps, but not dead."

She didn't glance his way, didn't want to see the hope in his face, his eyes.

After a moment, he went on, his tone hardening, "I find it difficult to believe that you're deliberately turning your back on your life, on what your life would be if your name was cleared."

Would be, she noted, not could; he had a single-mindedness she found disarming.

When she didn't respond, he exploded. "Why?" The word rang with frustration. "I know you well enough to know you have a reason."

She had a plethora of reasons, none of which he needed to know. She could imagine his opinion, his demolition of her concern for him. She forced herself to look into his brilliant eves, saw emotion glittering in the green, and knew in that instant that she had to make him believe he'd misjudged her, that all he'd learned of her over the past few years he'd misread.

Refusing to let herself consider the ramifications, his pain or hers, she slowly and clearly stated, her gaze steady on his eyes, "There is no reason that I can see for such a desperate action, to rake over coals long dead. Returning to the world, being restored to their good graces is not important to me."

The emphasis she placed on those last four words was brutal, clearly indicating the hidden meaning she wished to convey; he drew back. She felt it physically, a sudden chill, a loss of warmth. His expression turned neutral; his eyes searched her eyes. Then he softly repeated, "Not important. I see."

The light seemed so far away now. Then he drew in a tight breath and bowed. "My apologies. Clearly, I've mistaken your desire to reclaim the life you were raised to live." Stiffly inclining his head, he reached for the gate. "I'll leave you to the life you prefer. Good-bye."

Not "Good night." Alessia watched him swing open the gate and step through it; one fist clenched on the bars, he pulled hard and it went clean through his heart before she or he could as much as squeak. She watched him, head high, mouth slightly open, as he bent his head to look down at the bar that was going to kill him.

He then shifted his gaze to Alessia, who was standing, unmoving, gazing at his chest, where the rod had pierced his body. Smiling depreciatingly, he mockingly stated," By holding humility and shunning pride, one keeps in mind that they truly are: only human. If someone were to become too proud, they would overestimate their abilities which would lead to not only their downfall, but the downfall of all the others who look up to them, Alessia."

When she looked up abruptly at his words, he gave an snort, causing him to choke. She ran to him and held his hand as sobs wracked her body. "Is there so much wrong with pride in myself, to be proud of who I am, and unafraid to stand up for myself? Is vanity not a necessary part of humanity?"

Lucifer gave Alessia an disbelieving look and continued his monologue. "If someone gets too prideful, Alessia, they may lie and do other such wrong things to save face, like you did, and appear greater or lesser than they truly are to the world. While this is wrong, even worse things could happen if they were exposed, although it has to be done. Because if someone reaches that point to where their pride is something they have to put their life on to protect, they already have hundreds, if not thousands of people following under them. Isn't it true, Alessia?"

"I put my pride aside when I told you who I really was, Lucifer. I put my pride aside when I married you, Lucifer. I put my pride aside to come here today, Lucifer. But I have an abundance of pride. So much pride that I fear I will never drain of it. So much pride that I now watch my husband die slowly. So much pride, Lucifer." Alessia sounded defeated at this point.

So absorbed were they in their conversation that they did not notice the shadow near the gate. It was only when a whisper reached them did Alessia turn around, wand in hand.

"You committed a breach of rules. I trust you know that and what goes along with it. Humility, like modesty, selflessness, and the giving of respect are best reserved for your husband, dear. Giving credit where credit is due; not unfairly glorifying one's own self or another, for that matter."

Alessia swallowed the lump in her throat as her pride rose again and nodded. "I understand. It was my fault, one that should not have been made. The consequences are mine to take."

"Crucio" She felt the pain seeping through her body. Her body felt like it was being pulled apart, strand by strand, part by part.

She could vaguely hear Lucifer's calls for her, his calls for the shadow to stop. Only when she almost lost consciousness did the shadow stop the curse and as the wounded couple watched, the gardens swallowed him into their midst.

"Pride again, Alessia. Pride of failure." Were Lucifer's last words as his life was taken away. Taken away into the land of the dead.

Alessia rose slowly and walked towards her husband as she noticed the familiar feeling of pride rising in her chest and the twinges of pain due to the Cruciatus Curse. Pride made her stay strong, stay unaffected.

Turning her back on the lighted house, she leaned on the bars and looked over the darkened alley, into the night her life had now become.

Pride had reigned supreme and humility had lost the battle.

But the war was yet to be fought.


	6. Ira

Ira

(Wrath vs Patience)

"_He was tortured to death. The fifth one was tortured to death."_

The men were standing in a group and trading quips. But all their minds were dwelling on the same fact. That they'd worked so closely with Alessia for the past decade yet still didn't know her identity or rather, identities, irked. It appeared that all the senior Inner Circle Death Eaters had colluded in keeping the secret.

"Which is frankly amazing," Goyle Sr. remarked, when Rudolphus Lestrange, having left Bellatrix Lestrange, his wife, chatting, or rather, plotting with the Dark Lord, joined them. "There are so many inveterate gossips; you'd swear at least one would be unable to resist whispering her identity, but no. On that one subject, total silence reigns."

The others all nodded their agreement, and sipped their wine. They'd gathered like this at each successive meeting, to toast the best killer and fix their sights on the next Order member to go. This time though, their thoughts turned to Alessia.

But Alessia wasn't there to prod.

Meanwhile, Antonin Dolohov detached himself from the throng, charmingly disengaging from two young ladies who would happily have continued to monopolize his time—and sought refuge with them. Lucius Malfoy cocked a brow at him.

He grimaced. "I'm seriously contemplating becoming a recluse."

Goyle Sr. grunted. "It won't do you any good. The more determined will still hunt you down."

Dolohov didn't look thrilled.

"You know who Alessia is," Travers murmured. "I don't suppose, given most of it is now over and done, that you'd like to share the information?"

Dolohov hesitated and they all held their breaths.

Then he shook his head. "I can't." He met Travers' gaze. "The punishment is too dire for Alessia's name. But anyway, you'll know her name soon enough."

"Everyone keeps saying that," Crabbe Sr. complained. "You'll know soon enough. When is 'soon enough' going to be? And what are the dire punishments for Alessia's name?"

Dolohov frowned at him and shuddered. "Well, brother, obviously, any day now. But for Alessia's name, the prospect of the punishment is scary enough for even the most courageous of souls. Perhaps you'd like to inquire about it from the Dark Lord himself?"

"Well, It's not obvious to us," Yaxley muttered as Crabbe took a step back at Dolohov's suggestion, "it isn't." his tone threatening all manner of violence.

Dolohov looked at him, then at the others. "It **is** obvious. You'll learn who Alessia is when she completes her commission and returns to civilian life. And by all accounts that's any day now. She's probably forever doomed to be a conundrum, unless your wife is successful in luring her back, Lucius."

Lucius raised his brows and frowned heavily. "My wife's plotting and planning against Alessia? Listen to yourself, Dolohov. You sound like a Muggle novel- one that those filthy Mudbloods are always eager to read."

But what Dolohov said gave them all something to think about.

No sooner did they have that thought did they notice a man being levitated to the ceiling, quite obviously in pain, by Bellatrix Lestrange, who was finding extreme pleasure in tormenting the man as the Dark Lord looked on.

"How dare you ignore the Dark Lord's orders and try to find out Alessia's identity? Do you owe no allegiance to the Dark Lord?"

The man only whimpered as the men exchanged looks and attempted to fade into the background, a hard task for such accomplished men, in order to escape the wrath of the Dark Lord.

The nasal voice of Voldemort broke the uncomfortable silence that was starting to gather.

"Snape, if you'll tell us who this man is. Well?"

Severus Snape, until then, unnoticed by the Death Eaters, stepped forward and bowed low before Voldemort. "My Lord, this is Satan Keane, a Muggle Studies Professor at Hogwarts. He teaches according to your standards and the true differences between Mudbloods and Purebloods."

"Ah well, Snape, if you'll also do us the honour of informing everyone here of this unfortunate man's transgression, so the same error is never repeated again?" Voldemort narrowed his eyes to slits and shot another Crucio at the man.

No one noticed a woman lingering in the shadows, suppressing her sobs as she saw her husband being tortured to death.

"Of course, my lord. This man attempted to find out the true identity of the Dark Lord's most loyal and effective follower, Alessia Zabini. It has already been informed that any such foolishness will only result in one thing." A cruel smile forming at the corner of his lips, Snape continued,

"Death."

A gasp left the woman lips, but was lost among the gasps of many of the Death Eaters.

Not wanting to move back in the Dark Lord's ranks, Bellatrix intervened and raised an eyebrow at Snape. "If you'll move back and allow the Dark Lord to see beyond your greasy hair?"

The Dark Lord seemed amused by Bellatrix and nodded to Snape in acknowledgement before looking back at the man, no hanging from the ceiling, limbs flailing about. He let the man drop down to the ground with a loud thud.

"You shall now know what it is to face the Dark Lord's wrath, Satan.", said Voldemort before casting another Crucio at the man, who was finding it difficult to even stand up. The man immediately fell to the ground again, cradling his hand, which seemed to be broken.

But the man, even in such a deteriorated condition found it in him to directly address the Dark Lord.

"Your soul is infested because this is what the sin of wrath does. Wrath is an acid within the soul that eats away at the heart until there is almost nothing left. It blocks the light from filling the soul – when one's soul is filled to the brim with whipping torrents of blackened anger, clear judgment and humility of heart are not to be found, and if they are, they are buried beneath layers of ash and fire."

It seemed to anger Bellatrix who raised her wand to probably kill the man. As the woman in the shadows raised her wand to avoid Satan's death at the hands of Bellatrix, the Dark Lord stopped the mad woman and cast a considering look at the man. "Do continue."

"People with wrath issues will often resort to taking the law in their own hands. As do you, my Lord. And as for finding out Alessia's identity, I believe no one will know her better than I do. Though I think my wife Eileen Keane knows her best. I never tried, my Lord. It was simply easy to find her insignia. In fact, I must tell you-"

"Interficio!" The Dark Lord shouted, wand pointed at Satan Keane.

Acid started to eat away at his skin, insects started to eat his face out and the helpless cries of Satan resounded off the hallowed halls of the meeting room. Everyone looked away and diverted their eyes, in order to avoid seeing the gruesome death of a fellow man , and a Pureblood at that. The only ones who watched were: Voldemort, Bellatrix and...

Alessia Zabini.

As his pleas for help died away and there was nothing left but dust, The Dark Lord swept out of the hall, his footsteps clicking on the granite floor of the dungeon, Bellatrix at his heels. The hall slowly emptied, until the only people left were Severus Snape and the woman in the shadows.

"His death was inevitable and you must accept that, Alessia. Forbearance and endurance through moderation are best left to theorists like Stan Keane. Resolving conflicts peacefully, as opposed to resorting to violence is not reality's way. The ability to forgive; to show mercy to sinners dies with such men, for it cannot be sustained for long. You must go away now, for it will only be detrimental if you are seen here. Do you understand me? Alessia?"

Alessia could hear Snape speaking to her but nothing could stop her from going near the ashes of her husband. No, Eileen Keane's husband and she would do well to remember that. She bent and took a handful of ashes from the ground and poured them into a flask, hugging it close to her heart. She didn't realise she was doing it in front of Snape. Not even when she went near him, tears in her eyes and dis-apparated on spot, leaving Snape in the hall, looking up in prayer, hoping for divine intervention.

Wrath had reigned supreme and patience had lost the battle.

But the war was yet to be fought.


	7. Luxuria

Luxuria

(Lust vs Chastity)

"_She killed him. She killed the sixth one."_

"If we manage it carefully, no one but Alessia needs to know the full story. If everyone agrees?" Lucius Malfoy looked around. Most nodded and no one protested. Alessia inclined her head. He then looked at the house-elf and snapped, "Call Severus Snape. Immediately!"

"Yes, master" squeaked the house-elf before disapparating as fast as possible.

As it turned out, Snape was in the neighbouring area, and knew their situation well. Severus Snape arrived promptly and was shown into the drawing room where they'd all remained, he was at first shocked by the bones of the story Malfoy related, but then quickly got down to business.

Settling in a chair with a travelling writing desk levitated to hover above his knees, Snape decreed, "I'll want statements—perhaps from the Lucius Malfoy first, and then you, Goyle Sr."—he inclined his head to Lucius—"and perhaps one of you others?" He cast a vague glance at Yaxley, Travers, Deborah Crabbe, Rudolphus Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov, his gaze lingering a little longer on Alessia.

"Now, then. Do decide fast." Snape declared, beckoning Malfoy forward.

Travers, glanced at Antonin Dolohov, and Yaxley, then at Alessia Zabini, and grinned.

"One of you outranks me, and I suspect the other two do, too. It should be one of you three."

So saying, he wandered off to join Deborah, who was sitting beside a certain Auburn Beelzebub, listening, curiously intent, to his ramblings.

Antonin Dolohov glanced at Alessia. He'd always wondered… Alessia's lips lifted slightly and she merely looked amused.

Looking away from Auburn to look at Alessia, Deborah raised his brows.

It was only after a few minutes did Alessia deign to reply. Raising a brow back at Dolohov, she said, "I do outrank you, but I'm not supposed to be here. So, all things considered, I suspect it had better be you Snape speaks with."

The information revealed, small though it may have been, immediately caught the attention of everyone in the room but Alessia didn't expand on her statement. Sighing to himself as everyone resigned themselves to disappointment again; Antonin Dolohov grimaced and said, "Very well. I shall subject myself to the inquisition". Alessia's twinkling eyes gave way to a forlornly bland expression as she turned away towards the windows.

She then drifted away to settle in a chair by the windows, attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible. Not an easy task, especially as Severus Snape, regardless of that earlier vague look, was very aware of her presence.

While Malfoy, and then Dolohov, gave their version of the affair and answered Snape's questions, riveting the attention of most in the room, Deborah patted Auburn's hand, rose, and moved to the windows. She sank into the chair alongside the one Alessia occupied.

Alessia acknowledged her presence with a sound suspiciously like an unfeminine snort and a grunt. "At least," Alessia said, her gaze fixed across the room, "I now completely know why you didn't marry." Alessia carried on. "Indeed. I never could understand it—I'd always regarded you as one of the sanest of women. Courage and boldness. Embracing of moral wholesomeness and achieving purity of thought through betterment becomes you. Nice to know my judgment wasn't at fault. Although it saddens me to know your son didn't inherit any of those qualities. But I surely did not expect Auburn Beelzebub. Why all the secrecy, Deborah?"

Deborah Crabbe smiled, not the least offended. Those ware typical enough comments from her and she had expected it.

They chatted—bantered—for some minutes, about the likely reaction of the Dark Lord once he learned it was Auburn Beelzebub who'd helped kill Death Eaters.

"Dolohov will have to be extra careful." Deborah said, looking at Dolohov, still listening, a frown on his face, to Auburn's all but continual blather. "He'll not only be eligible again, but after all those un-based suspicions now eliminated, he'll be famous to boot."

"I don't think you need to worry about him," Alessia dryly replied. "Not unless people have taken to hunting in dining rooms." She then smiled and rolled her eyes. "Yes. Well, he's barely stirred from one except in pursuit of this Auburn man."

Deborah smiled fondly. After a moment she more quietly said, "Speaking of hiding, my time for hiding—for being in control , as it were—will soon be at an end."

She glanced at Alessia, but didn't meet her gaze; Alessia's remained fixed broodingly on Auburn Beelzebub, although Deborah would have sworn it wasn't him she was seeing.

A long moment ticked past, and then Alessia sighed. "If you want to know the truth, I'm not sure it will never end. You didn't hear what Auburn's been saying. He didn't wish to return, for he was preparing to make a life outside England. And soon, he would have been far away, in a foreign land, if we didn't catch him in time." After considering for another moment, she was about to say something else when Deborah added, "But you will have to return. You have to- to take up the mantle he left behind too, both with honour and the Dark Lord's blessing, which is much more than I can ever hope to claim."

Alessia only nodded while Deborah looked desperate.

After a while, Alessia said, "But you will hold. You must. You are, after all, his only hope. If you'll do the honours."

"That, if you'll recall"—Deborah straightened in her seat—"didn't stop him from cheating me of a life before."

There was no answer to that.

Deborah walked towards Auburn, who was chatting animatedly to Travers, who was scratching his head to understand the ramblings, but in vain. Slowly raising her wand, Deborah pointed it at Auburn but her hand shook and she wasn't able to cast anything.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, gaining courage from Alessia's hand on the small of her back, comforting her, she drew on her reserve of strength.

"Avada Kedarva"

Slowly, all the men left the place, nodding at Deborah for a job well done. But it was more than just a job for her, and she couldn't find it in her to acknowledge it.

It was then that Alessia said through clenched teeth, for this was something she could not forget. Or forgive. "You were so absorbed in other women that you never found out about me. I am Alessia, Auburn. Alessia, not Fiona Beelzebub. Lust is a sin is because it destroys love. I loved you, and I shouldn't have had to all but seek love. If you had chosen chastity, lived it the best way you can, and confessed your sins of lust whenever you committed them, I would have been better able to love you. But it is something you did not have in you to grasp, Auburn. My shadow did not even find it essential to give you a final glance. That is the extent of your sin. And it is not just me you have wronged, but also Deborah. And for that, I shall never have it in myself to forgive you."

Saying so, she levitated his body and banished it to the other corner of the earth, for she did not want the additional duty of performing his last deeds.

Deborah left the house, absorbed in her thoughts. Alessia let herself be absorbed into the life she had lived these years and was about to leave behind.

No use worrying over split milk indeed.

Lust had reigned supreme and chastity had lost the battle.

But the war was yet to be fought.


	8. Avarice

Avarice

(Greed vs Charity)

"_He was burned. The seventh one was burned to death."_

Pushing the files into the boxes, Alessia felt the full weight of what she'd ordered to be done, over all those years and tried to blink away the tears that threatened to fill her eyes. Knew the price she'd paid that it all should be so.

She had been barely eighteen when she had been approached by the shadow and asked to take on a very particular commission with him on level with each other with The Dark Lord.

Despite her lack of years, there were few others with connections the equal of hers, still fewer with her talents, with her inherent ability to command, along with the zeal to inspire others, to willingly go into extreme danger, trusting in her, especially when they hadn't, quite, known who she was. Few like her, who could have, as she had done, readily recruited the best of Death Eaters and trained them to the best of their abilities. And hers.

Memories threatened to claim her; abruptly shaking free, she stalked back to her desk. Rounding it, she let herself into the cushioned chair behind it. Once again her thoughts circled; the night seemed to be one for reminiscences.

She had never lost a Death Eater, not one solely under her command. That, she felt, was her greatest success.

Her greatest failure was equally easy to define; she'd never succeeded in keeping anyone alive, a fact she and Snape knew to be flesh and blood, men who'd come within a whisker of life, but, as always, they'd slipped through their—her—fingers.

Although it went very much against her grain, she'd accepted that she would have to let that failure lie; she'd run out of time for all those.

But as for the one left, she'd accepted the consequences—and all the years of keeping strictly to herself while ruthlessly and relentlessly managing the reins of the Death Eaters they'd deployed far and wide across the country—she was more than satisfied with what she'd achieved, the contribution she and Snape had together done for the safety of the citizens.

She'd been consistently included in the adventures that had befallen many of them. Although she didn't face the same prospect, she seriously doubted there would be any interesting adventure attached to the rest of her life.

She and Snape had spent the last weeks tidying up, writing and delivering the inevitable reports to The Dark Lord, to be read after their departure.

That as of today, the individual known as Alessia had ceased to exist.

She snorted softly. Relaxed in the chair, she stared across the room as the shadow let himself in, noiselessly as he always did and dropped into the chair opposite hers. And as he consciously tried to bring his other self to mind and to life, Alessia tried to bring her new self to mind and put to rest all that she ever was.

But so many years was a long time. And a name changed nothing of what a person truly was.

She was awaken from her thoughts as Snape started to reveal a plan of his. "Will you?"

"I remember the question. You asked me the same one once before. Never thought I'd see the day..." Alessia said, tilting her head slightly as though to look through his usual impenetrable mask, comfortably settled in the armchair in front of the hers.

"What's the answer?" Snape interrupted her, leaning in his chair and rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he regarded her sideways from his desk, revealing his impatience.

She grinned, "The same one as the last time you asked me to do something ill advised- sure, why not?"

"Your support is much appreciated" he drawled sarcastically as he rose and helped her up from the armchair. She curtsied with a little flourish and turned to leave the room, knowing that he'd follow her.

Snape seemed terribly impatient. "Alessia, greed is the need for material posessions or material wealth. If this need is unfed, a greedy person may even resort to hoarding goods, theft, robbery, or obtaining any material posessions by means of trickery, deception, or manipulation. You need to get rid of-"

Alessia stopped in her tracks and turned around to face Snape, interrupting him.

"Have I ever shirked my duties, Snape? It is my good-will that leaves Morgan Mammon with the possession of this house and the memories of Gia Mammon. He is destined to die, Snape and I knew that well before. He is greedy and I acknowledge it but he was a good man once. A good man."

"Be that may but perhaps, it was your charity that made him turn out that way. Your generosity and willingness to give. A nobility of thought or actions is what you are known by. You have a liberality that can put saints to shame."

"My heart-felt thanks if that was meant to be a compliment, Snape. If we can get to work now?"

Alessia and Snape were now outside the house. The lights were still switched on in the kitchen and they could see the outline of Morgan moving about in the bedroom, probably pacing, and waiting for Gia Mammon.

Alessia steeled herself for what she knew would be for the last time in her life and muttered, "Incendio maxima".

If anyone had looked after that, they would have noticed Morgan trying to gather all the priciest items before rushing down the stairs and outside directly, causing the fire to corner him upstairs. Unable to watch his agony, Alessia increased the intensity of the fire, burning him to ashes instantly. But not before his keening cry for help pierced the night air.

"Gia!"

There was nothing anyone could have done to help but to thank Alessia for decreasing his exposure to pain.

Greed had lost the battle and charity had reigned supreme.

The war had been fought and over.


	9. Epilogue

Epilogue

Sin had won and virtue had been vanquished.

But the world did not end.

Seraphina, as she was called now, caught sight of herself in the still water of the ocean, leaning against the railing, absently watching the Falmouth docks amid shouts of 'Aye captain' and 'Ahoy'. Her bleak, lonesome expression literally pulled her into the water and her legs moved of their own accord and before long, she found herself swinging her legs over the railing to dangle them beside the wooden trunk fixed in a corner, a few feet above the water.

Numb.

Her first thought was that she was still in denial. Still in shock from the injustice meted out to her. She could swear on the gun strapped to her thigh under her sun-dress and on the wand tucked inside her arm flap that she was dangerous, dangerously so and wrongly denied something of hers.

But her body and brain never responded to her grim thoughts. Neither to her flapping her hands gracelessly in front of herself as she tried not to fall into the water or when she gave herself a shove, weak though it was.

Only when she gave up on herself and started to rise from her impromptu seat did her brain deign to reply. She flopped down gracelessly on the floor of the docks and instead of stopping the memories, unwanted ones came rushing back.

_The grief made her remember again._

Seraphina went back to watching tattooed sailors lifting their anchors and a bulky captain calling out orders, as the memories started to fade away.

When she finally got up, she shifted her weight from side to side, and then paced on the path behind her, glaring almost continuously at the water, as though it was the perpetrator of all crimes, waiting to see another memory. When nothing came forth, she left, muttering to herself about silent brains and people's delusions, about other's sins and all the grief it had brought her. She did not consider her own.

It was then that she collided with Albus Dumbledore, a man she had not met for more than 30 years.

As she closed her eyes, she heard him whisper in her ear, "Is that not more of a crime, my dear? To judge someone for a simple, instinctive urge- to judge someone based on those things that make us truly human- not our virtues, but our sins. But never ourselves?"

But he did not remain, for when she opened her eyes, he was nowhere to be seen.

"Time passes. People change.  
>As they say, the world is not black and white.<br>Well, it's not sins and virtues either."

And on her tombstone was written:

_In memory of Serafina Wood.  
>Departed this life on January 31, 2010, age 50 years.<br>Here lies one Wood enclosed in wood, one Wood within another.  
>The outer wood is very good, we cannot praise the other.<em>

And smiles are hard to come by.


End file.
